HOPE: Your Stories

​Depression is not easy. Nor is it easy to talk about, especially when it’s about you. I am one of the millions of people in the world that suffers from depression. I was diagnosed with depression after my first attempt of suicide. I swallowed a bottle of Ibuprofen. This only made me sick, and weakened my liver. My mother wheeled me into the E.R and an older nurse stopped us and knelt down on her knee, held my hand, holding back tears she told me how young and beautiful I am. How I have so much life ahead of me and how there is nothing so large or small that is worth taking my life over. Every time suicide crosses my mind I remember her. I think of her as my Angel.

Instead of suicide I chose to deal with my depression by hanging around the wrong crowd of friends. I abused drugs, and put myself in harmful situations. After dealing with it for so long my parents only had one choice. The best thing they could have ever done for me. I lived with my grandparents in California away from my past. It never took away my depression but I definitely coped with it in a healthier way. I could go on and on with many mistakes and challenges I have experienced in my life but there is one memory that changed my life forever.

Haylee is my daughter. She was 1.5 years old. It kills me to admit this but when I look back I barely remember spending time with her. I spent most of my time trying to make my boyfriend happy. Selfish doesn’t even come close to describe me. I was worse.It all started with a broken heart. My actions and thoughts grew colder as I remembered every time he hurt me. Every bruise, every scar, every nightmare, and every tear I wasted. I spent all my time trying to figure out what I did that would make him betray me.

“I am pregnant with your son!” I screamed. “How could you cheat me, lie to me, steal from me, abandon me?” I never received a straight answer. All that came from his mouth were nothing but careless words that only hurt me more. Without a care in the world, I slapped him, leaving nothing but an outline of my hand on his face.

Revenge was unfortunately something that didn’t cross my mind. But I didn’t think he’d go this far…he called the police and pressed charges against me. I was now being charged with Assault 4 Domestic Violence, hand-cuffed and thrown in the back of a cop car. “Wait, you have the wrong person! Can’t you see that I am the victim? I am the one he emotionally and physically abused!” I wanted so badly to scream those words. But I was speechless.

Starring at a rotted ceiling, lying on a mattress that I swear was just a rock with a sheet over it, I thought of my home, my nice warm bed, and my family. Remembering my mom and how she was always there for me when I was sick, or when I just needed a shoulder to cry on. My mom is what I needed the most. To hold me and tell me that this was just a bump in the road and it will all be over soon. I tried so hard not to cry. I dreamt of my daughter’s smile and her laugh. A waterfall of tears flooded my face. “Please God, I just want my family again. I don’t want anything else. I just want to be with my family.”

I slowly traced my stomach outlining my unborn son. My body filled with fear, scared for my son’s life. I am a criminal. It’s possible his father could be granted full custody. I prayed with the last inch of hope and faith I had in me.

“God, please forgive me for my sinful actions. Give me the strength and wisdom to change and control my anger. Show me what you want me to do to keep my son safe. Help me be selfless and love him unconditionally. All my hope is in you. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

My heart felt warm. I thought of my love for my son. How he deserves the best kind of love there is from a mommy and a daddy. After a couple days I was released and able to go home. I cried tears of joy when I saw daylight. I danced around my house, laughed with my dad and brothers, squeezed my mom so tight, I held my daughter and played with her for hours, ate all night long, and I slept soundly in my warm bed. To this day, I will never forget the little things I took for granted are what matters the most.

On August 13, 2010 I gave birth to my son and witnessed the beauty of life. I never thought I’d be strong enough to hand my son over to someone else. But after I gave birth to him I realized how powerful my love is for him. Love gave me the strength to be selfless and think of the life my son deserves. He was adopted by two loving parents. He is safe, happy, and has much more than I could have ever given him.

I may have suffered from a broken past, broken heart, and the grief of my son but I found strength and wisdom to overcome the hurt. I learned so much from the mistakes I have made. I will never repeat those mistakes. I realized how important it is to believe in me, and remember that there is nothing too large or too little to give up on myself. People like to judge me and think I lost for giving up my son or that I am weak. I use to care what they think but I know I did not lose. I gained. I gained something so powerful: The true meaning of love.

Dear Reader: I want you to know, I wrote this for you. Even when you hit rock bottom and truly believe that there is no hope. I promise there is, I’ve felt it, seen it, experienced it, and lived it. Everyone I know that has tried to or attempted suicide ended up with a second chance at life. With my second chance, after a hard road, I chose not to give up and it only made me stronger and wiser. Believe in yourself. You have a purpose and a place in this world. Grab a hold of that hope and never let go.